Mirrors To The Soul
by SkeletalChild
Summary: The night of the final battle has arrived ... at least Voldemort thought so. But sometimes things just take a different turn ... Slash HPLV. Oneshot.


A/N: This hasn't really turned out as I wanted it to, but there's no point in rewriting everything thirty times, so I'll just post this fic as it is. And in case you haven't read the summary, or already forgotten it by now, this is oneshot. And there's slash in it. Might be obvious, but it's from Voldemort's POV. Read, review, and anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 'Nuff said.

Mirrors to the Soul

I ordered my Death Eaters to leave.

They had carried out their task very well; they had brought Harry Potter here for me. There was no need for them anymore, and I didn't want them to stay and watch our final duel. I felt that witnessing the final moments and the death of my nemesis should be a thing reserved for me alone.

So now we stood here in this graveyard once again.

Only the two of us, this time. I had never been alone with the boy before, except for a few seconds after I had killed his mother.

The boy who had been my downfall once stood a few metres away, looking lost with his arms wrapped around himself to shield him from the cold, his head hanging down and his hair falling into his face like a curtain. He was silent, slightly trembling. Whether from the freezing cold or from fear, I wondered.

"Harry Potter …" I spoke his name slowly and savoured the feeling of each syllable on my tongue. I had been waiting for this since I had first heard of the prophecy. I didn't believe anything could go wrong this time. He couldn't escape. My heart was filled with a mixture of excitement, anxiety and, oddly enough, dread. Dread of what, I didn't understand.

Still, he didn't look up, didn't answer, nor show in any other way that he acknowledged my presence.

"Why, aren't you trying to run from me today?" I asked mockingly.

"Should I?" said Harry in a voice that in a way sounded just like how it had sounded the other times we'd met, yet in another way so different. He wasn't trying to sound brave, nor did he sound fearful, in fact his voice was completely emotionless.

Then he finally did look up. Stared straight into my eyes and smiled a hollow sort of smile.

I almost gasped then. What had become of the brave, righteous and naive child that he had been two years ago?

Was he already defeated, broken?

Suddenly I found him beautiful, somehow.

A terrible, mutilated beauty he was. Actually, I thought he looked like a rather pretty corpse. I had seen many dead people in my life, and Harry surely reminded me of them. Yes indeed, the Boy-Who-Lived looked as though he had already quietly died somewhere along the way to fulfilling his destiny.

The graveyard surroundings fitted him perfectly. Moonlight lit up his pale face, framed by messy dark hair. But what had really changed about him were the eyes. While they had once been of a vivid, bright green and had sparkled defiantly and with determination, they now seemed dull, almost dead, their vibrant colour shadowed by … something.

What was it that was so amiss in his eyes?

Something about Harry Potter seemed very odd to me. I merely couldn't place exactly what it was.

"The eyes are mirrors to the soul," he whispered barely audible.

Realizing what he was doing, I immediately shut him out of my mind. "Been practicing Legilimency, have you?" I snapped, angry with myself for underestimating the seventeen-year-old, and even more for thinking that he was beautiful. For a second Harry looked like a small child that had been caught stealing candy and I couldn't help giving him a small, almost non-existent smile.

"You're going to die tonight." I reminded him, and myself.

Potter made a bored impression and didn't appear to feel inclined to react at all.

Fine, he didn't care … so what? "Let us bow now."

We bowed, none of us any deeper than necessary. Harry still did nothing his gaze fixed upon me. I decided to be wary, as that behaviour seemed not at all like what I was used to from him. Was he suicidal or insane? His spirit seemed gone.

I made the first move. "Crucio!"

Harry fell to the dirty ground, screaming and writhing in agony. I watched for a few minutes, enjoying the tortured screams. When I lifted the curse, the teen knelt panting on the ground. I waited until he had managed to get to his feet again, and had brushed off his robes. He didn't seem quite steady yet, but still gave me a wicked look and a lopsided grin and said hoarsely, "I hope you had fun, cause that really hurt. It's my turn now. May I?"

As he carefully approached me, I considered hexing him again, but I was curious what he was up to. He didn't bother to take his wand out of his pocket. "I don't stand a chance against you in a duel, but if I have to die then I can at least speak my mind for once." He looked down, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks.

"Do so, then." Normally I don't listen to my victims spill their hearts before me, but he was certainly intriguing. As he stood right before me, I realized I was dreading the moment that I would finally end this life, that it would all be over. I'd been making efforts to kill Harry Potter for years now. And although I'd been furious every time he managed to get away, our little cat-and-mouse game had kept me entertained very well. If I won now, it would be over forever. Death is final. No one can bring back the dead, not even I. And, I couldn't explain it, I felt as though losing my closest enemy forever would be similar to losing a piece of myself. Or maybe even dying myself.

And I really didn't want that. That was why I had split my soul into seven pieces.

Harry spoke, a speech during which I had a hard time hiding my surprise. "I only want to thank you. Yeah, that's right, I believe you have actually done me some … well, favours, although unintentionally. I don't even hold much of a grudge against you for killing my parents anymore. I've seen how they were like, at least how my father was, and who knows what I'd have grown into had I been with them. I'm actually quite glad they never influenced me. At my relatives, I grew up hated and left alone, but when I was brought into the wizarding world, everyone suddenly cared about me and I was ready to believe almost everything I was told, and proud to step into my parents' footsteps, having been told how great they had been. Now, you forced me to grow up. Slowly, step by step I gave up on everything I had been taught about good and evil, and started to rely only on myself once again. You see, I can't stand depending on others, but still I tried to give them a chance and trust them. I have given up on all of my friends now, though. I told them that were because they weren't safe with me, but in fact it was because I just wanted to be left alone anymore. I sometimes regret what has become of me, very much so even, but mostly I think it was for my best. So thank you very much for helping me grow up more than anyone else and making me stronger. I almost even look up to you a little bit. Almost. I've never been one for idolism. Still, I've taken you for an example in a few matters."

I couldn't help but smile at the kid. Now that I knew what to look for I noticed, looking closely into his eyes, hidden by apathy, that I could see something deeply tainted behind them. By dark magic, pain, death? I wondered what the boy had done to become like this. "You're welcome." I half-hissed. "You know what, I think you and I might just be very similar. I almost regret that I'm going to kill you. Almost."

"Almost? I'm sure I'd regret it much more. All right, if I could choose the way I'll die, I might even want you to be the one to kill me. It would at least be a worthy death. But I don't really want to die, I'd prefer living a little longer and experiencing a little more. You really don't want to rethink it though, do you? I don't want to be a Death Eater, I'm not going to support you, but I guess I could leave you alone and keep on doing my own thing. I'm not going to plead with you though, one good thing Dumbledore taught me is to face death with your head held high. So if you're really going to kill me, that's what I will do."

I once again could see the brave, defiant young man that he'd always been in him. I still thought about if I really wanted to kill him. It had been my aim for about seventeen years now. If I didn't, wouldn't I be giving up? And I didn't want to lose my face by the whole thing looking as though I had given up. If I could get him to join me that would have been another thing, a triumph even greater than I could reach by just killing him. But I was sure Harry Potter, as much as he had changed, would never do that. Searching through my emotions, I came to the conclusion that I still didn't truly want him to die.

"Give me one good reason not to, Harry." I said with mixed emotions. The part of me that wanted to let him live wished for him to give me a reasonable excuse to do so. If he didn't, it would be his final death sentence.

His inner battle was written clearly on his face, blush deepening. Then he whispered, "I guess you don't feel the way I do anyway, but I have nothing to lose, do I?"

Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what he did next. He closed the little distance left between us, and brushed his lips against mine. Then he pulled back again immediately, as if he'd burned himself. And went back to ground staring, mumbling something that sounded like, "Sorryijusthadtopleasejustforgetabout thatandgoonandkillmenow."

To say the least, I was astonished. My lips certainly did feel like they'd been burned, although I had to grudgingly admit it wasn't a bad feeling. Had that boy just tried to kiss me? I almost couldn't believe it. Maybe I was imagining things? Certainly not, but the whole thing seemed surreal to me now, like a dream. Whether it was a good thing, I had forgotten about duelling completely.

"What was that, now?" I hissed cruelly.

"Sorryididntmeanto."

I can't remember ever being so confused. No one had ever caught me off guard like that.

So what now? Kill him? I only had to say two words to end this.

Too easy. That seemed too easy.

No. It felt wrong. Not good.

It was what I had always done. I had always killed the ones that caused me problems.

Not this time.

He had kissed me.

Kissed.

Me.

Still could feel his touch on my lips.

Cold, but at the same time burning.

Felt right.

Felt wrong.

Felt everything at once.

Maybe kiss him back?

No, don't even think about that.

Not an option.

Never, ever.

Complete loss of what to do.

I don't know what possessed me then. It seemed to me like my body was moving on its own.

I raised my hand and touched his cold cheek, lightly, with care, as though I was touching something extremely fragile.

He shivered under my touch and lifted his head again.

Tears in his eyes, betraying his desire, his shame, his fear.

This time I was the one who closed the distance.

My lips were on Harry's again.

He was paralysed for a second, then he hesitantly put his arms around my shoulders and deepened the kiss, becoming more hungry and demanding.

I knew that this was something he had been yearning for for some time now, I couldn't tell for how long exactly. I must admit that he was infecting me, too, drawing me to him. This was new to me, I had never longed for another human being like this. I felt the same wild happiness and excitement that I usually felt when I murdered, only this time it was even better.

I knew that if I didn't end it here, just pull away and get this done with, I would not be able to any more.

And as much as I was convinced that I was making a badly reckless and foolish decision, I gave in to this madness and started to let my hands travel over Harry's body that was almost as skinny as mine under his black robes.

He rewarded that with a soft moan as he eagerly did the same to me, quite skilfully I had to confess.

After a minute or so, during which I was highly surprised at the fact that I was really doing this, I broke the kiss.

"That what you wanted?" I questioned.

"Yeah, exactly", he answered in a raspy voice, staring at me like he too had trouble believing that this was truly happening. He brushed a few streaks of amazingly shiny hair out of his face. I had to restrain myself from reaching out to see if it was really as soft as it looked.

"So, shall we go on, then?" I grinned evilly.

"Yeah", he said again and lustfully went back to kissing me. I ran my fingers through his hair. In spite of it being a complete mess, it felt even better than I had imagined.

I forced him a few steps back and pressed him against a tombstone. Our kisses grew rougher as our tongues battled for dominance, and our hips moved together in a way that can only be described as perfect.

As our bodies joined together as one that night, I a rush of emotions crashed down on me that I had been avoiding for all my life.

And as I looked into Harry's green eyes once more, they were sparkling with life again. Mirrored in them was what was his greatest power, as I realized now. His pure, complete soul that nothing and no one but Harry himself could destroy, and that no one but me could make him want to destroy. My own soul might have been broken, but his was enough for both of us, if he was willing to share with me. And he was.

Later we rested together in midst of dirt and dead flowers on a grave. It was beginning to dawn, and the first rays of sunlight illuminated the delicate features of the angelic being lying next to me.

"Still going to kill me?" asked Harry, snuggling closer to me and tracing a finger over my chest.

"Not today." I simply replied.

A/N: So, you thought this was absolutely OOC, deadly boring stupid, gruesome, or plainly just an insult to your intelligence? Then tell me so! You see that pretty button down there? Yes, I'm talking about the on that says 'Submit Review' on it. Just press it and review. Please? Even if you hated the story, then at least tell me why. If you liked it, I'd be glad to hear that, too. In case you got any questions, leave your e-mail address and I can answer. JUST REVIEW! Thanks people!


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